


An Acquired Taste

by ununoriginal



Series: On The Village Green [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-29
Updated: 2001-11-29
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununoriginal/pseuds/ununoriginal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slash. Lupin's POV of their break-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Acquired Taste

_you tell me you don't love me, over a cup of coffee_  
 _and I just have to look away._  
 _a million miles between us, planets crash into dust_  
 _I just let it fade away…_  
 _\----"cup of coffee", garbage_

***

You've always liked coffee. I used to have no opinion on the beverage. It's more of a Muggle drink anyway.

The first time I was in your arms, I smelled it absorbed into your robes. The first time I kissed you, I tasted it upon your lips. When the sun or the light falls in just that certain way, it brings out the flecks of brown hidden within the darkness of your hair and eyes.

Nowadays I can't really say I like it. For me, it's been an acquired taste. It's not really good for me. When I drink it, the caffeine within makes my neck tense and my head hurt. But once in a while, I forget, and I indulge myself.

Indulgence and its consequences are always in one another's company.

You are like that sinful drink you adore. But it's not my head that hurts when it comes to you. It's my heart.

***

My emotions are inextricably entwined with coffee. Happiness, joy, excitement, hope; glorious, thankful relief; wild, thrilling ecstasy. I found all of it within your embrace. Within the sight, smell, taste and touch of you, and the whiffs of that dark drink which forever lingers about you.

And there is still the other end of the spectrum. Grief, sadness, disappointment; the ominous sense of impending loss; the final wretched despair.

***

"Dumbledore says you insisted on seeing me." Your voice is so carefully neutral, your entire posture so still, betraying nothing.

"Yes, I—"

"I can't imagine why."

The bitter smell of espresso that rises from the steaming cup on the table stains the air between us. "W-what?"

I know you are angry, that's why I have to see you, to explain, to beg your forgiveness.

"It's obvious from what has happened that you no longer want us to be together." Words spilling calmly from your mouth, terrifying in their wrongness.

Something twists sharply inside me. "No, you're wrong, it's not like that…"

But you're not with me. You're not with me at all. We're sitting across each other, less than 2 feet apart, but you're in another universe.

Or maybe it's just me. I've been switched and thrown into an alternate world – an insane dimension – ever since the night you discovered everything about me.

And this version of you – this beautiful, calm, not-raging, remote, WRONG version of you – is denying everything that's gone on between us. Denying me of you. Denying me of completion.

"No… please, Severus, listen to me. Let me explain, for the sake of our love –"

A slight curl at one corner of your lips; the barest hint of a mirthless smile. "Interesting that you would bring that up, Remus." The slight emphasis on my name did not reassure me in the least. "But I agree with you, I WAS wrong. About who you were… about us. About love." You reach out, your fingers lift the cup and bring it to your mouth.

A delicate sip of the black liquid, and you look up at me. Your steady, indifferent gaze strikes fear into my heart. "I don't love you anymore."

Fingers, clawing and clutching, reaching into my chest.

"It was wrongly given. I would never love a person who tried to murder me."

Closing gently, oh so gently, over my pounding heart.

"I could never love a monster."

Flash of blood red spraying as you rip it out.

***

The heady aroma curls in through the doorway, wafting over to where I lie motionless on the bed. At first it creeps in, molecule by molecule, gently buffeted by the flow of the air, and then there it stays, trapped, hovering in the stillness of the room, until something occurs to dissipate it.

But nothing happens. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hangs heavily in the air.

I slowly draw in a breath, allowing the caffeine to descend into my lungs and seep into my bloodstream, wondering idly if one could get that "coffee-high" simply by inhaling it.

My heartbeat has quickened slightly and I can feel a flash coming on as I just continue to remain still.

So… it appears the effects of a strong pot of coffee are not to be underestimated.

Or, it could be just that the scent of coffee has been irrevocably enmeshed with the thought and images of you.


End file.
